


The Return

by CateAdams



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe, Non-con mental bonding, OC POV, Violence, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CateAdams/pseuds/CateAdams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of revolution, a woman with a complex past is recruited by an unlikely ally: former Imperial Captain James Kirk has awoken from involuntary hibernation to find his world completely changed. Together, they embark on a mission to find answers from the one man who took Kirk’s place, his ship and then the Empire itself. (OC POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

Chapter One: Meeting

     I’m not what you’d expect to find in a place like this, and it was never more evident than at that particular moment, as I waited with the others in the front parlor of Mister Lou’s brothel. The other, younger, courtesans stood coquettishly, more skin bared than obscured by lace and froth, their faces painted within an inch of their lives. They talked animatedly with each other, no sign of resentment or shame here. Selling one’s body could be a lucrative trade in the Empire, as well as a potentially valuable way to network one’s way into the top circles of power and privilege. This was true even now, even after the revolution, and especially here: in an establishment know for its cleanliness and straightforward dealings.

     Mister Lou was walking along the line, speaking to each of his ladies and gentlemen in turn. I lingered behind the chattering, colorful group, focused more on my PADD than on arranging myself in an attractive fashion. Frankly speaking, I was too old for this; most of those offering themselves were a decade or more younger than I, and possessed of an energy that was far more accommodating. I was here for my few well-paying regulars and because I appreciated the relative calm and solitude I was allowed, and the peace of knowing that I would always be underestimated. I met my rent on time and never caused any trouble, and Mister Lou, though constantly skeptical of me, liked my consistency as well as the mentorship I inevitably provided to the newcomers.

     It was still slightly early when the buzzer rang with a surprising urgency, and Mister Lou, though grumbling, made haste to release the lock. I barely looked up at first, leaning back against the wall in my long, blue nightgown a forgettable background behind the buzzing finery before me. It was finally curiosity, and a long, tense silence, that forced me to lift my eyes from my reading and meet a piercing hazel gaze.

     This man was unlike any other I had seen in this establishment. Thin, arrestingly handsome, and barely containing a powerful energy that made my breath catch, despite myself. He reminded me sharply of the men and women I dealt with in a previous life, where intelligence and courage fell frequently to vicious cunning, lies, and subterfuge. Where blood on my knife or a pile of ash at the barrel of my disruptor provided food on my table. Another lucrative trade in this, our much-changed Empire.

     He was staring at me, ignoring Mister Lou’s groveling gestures toward the others, and finally the stranger jerked his chin, silently handing a credit chip to the purveyor.

    I shrugged slightly, earning a disapproving hiss from Lou, and walked forward. I didn’t touch the stranger, but brushed past close enough to smell the scent of travel on his clothes, the subtle scent of sweat. I was no telepath, but I could tell that he was tense, and probably running from something. Why such as he would pause in a brothel was presently beyond me, and I did not bother to hide my natural, strong gait as he followed me into the back, toward my room. I was as tall as he, and my shoulders almost as broad. I had been a fighter, and kept up with my physical conditioning. I’d disposed of unruly Klingons before, and was certain that this human, however formidable, would not prove a challenge in that way.

     The fervent whispers from the front disappeared behind a soundproofed door and I laid my PADD on my dresser before turning to face him, reaching to the straps of my gown. I assumed he would want something quick, and could not hide my surprise as he raised his hand, stopping me.

     He smiled slightly, obviously amused at my misjudgment, and I narrowed my eyes, taking a step back.

     “What is your pleasure, then, sir?” I asked with infinite impudence.

     “I want to talk,” he said. His voice was a hardened tenor and slightly rough, as if he hadn’t used it in a while.

     I flipped my dark hair over my shoulder. “A high price to pay for talking, don’t you think?”

     His eyes ran lazily over my body as he replied contemptuously, “Not so high a price.”

     I shrugged again, acknowledging, “No, not so high anymore.” I took a step closer to the small bar. “A drink?”

     His mouth twisted. “Sure, why not? Whatever the lady’s preference.”

     I inclined my head and busied myself with two drinks, hearing him pace around the room. I turned back and waited, calmly holding the glasses in my hands. “You’ll find no listening devices here. Or traps. Or weapons, for that matter.” I offered him his drink. “I find them unnecessary.”

     “I’m sure.” He took the drink and, very deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine, he sipped it.

     I chuckled and tossed mine back, savoring the burn down my throat. Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes.

     “So,” I said casually, “what do you wish to discuss?”

     “The state of the Empire,” he said flatly. “I’ve been…away for a long time and I want to know what’s happened while I’ve been gone.”

     “Ah,” I replied slowly. “You don’t wish to be seen making such vulnerable inquiries and you require a source that has no agenda and yet also possesses the latest in high-value knowledge and gossip.”

     He hummed, taking another sip. “Precisely.” His head tilted. “You look familiar to me.”

     I smiled. “I doubt it.” I set my glass onto the bar’s smooth surface and walked to the bed, sitting on its edge.

     He turned to watch me, shifting his position subtly so that his back wasn’t to the door. I nodded to myself, asking, “What you want to know?”

     His mouth tightened, and he seemed to come to a decision. “Why do we have a new Emperor? Was there really a revolution? What came of it? Who’s really in charge, now?”

   My eyes widened, not just at the rapid slew of questions, but of what they revealed. I assessed his appearance again, noting overly pale skin and wiry thinness. “You’ve been in hibernation for a while, haven’t you?”

     He let out a sharp breath. “Smart girl.”

     I blinked. “I‘ve been there myself. How long?”

     “Five years,” he said. “Best I can tell.”

     I nodded slowly. “Interesting.”

     “Isn’t it?” he retorted sarcastically. “Do you have any answers for me?”

     I lifted my chin. “There was a revolution. The entire Imperial Command was overthrown and a new leadership took its place. This happened four years ago. Since then, the Fleet’s purpose has been markedly different: instead of conquest and punishment, it acts as a police force, bringing systems into line with the new order. Everything is controlled, to an extent.” I waved a hand, indicating my surroundings. “This profession remains fairly unrestricted, for example. But the drug trade and the slave trade have been all but abolished. The populace was confused at first, but got used to it pretty quickly. There’s been no more genocide, no more broadcast torture or executions. Everyone makes money and everyone feels safe.” I smiled again. “It put me out of a job, though, so I ended up here.”

     He grunted, and his eyes had moved away, darting back and forth. “You were an assassin.” He looked at me, adding derisively, “And now you’re a whore. Now, _that’s_ interesting.”

     “ _Kaiidth_ ,” I replied flippantly.

     He unexpectedly paled even more, swallowing reflexively. I watched him, and we both knew he’d given something away. “Who’s in charge?” he grated out.

     I shrugged, shifting just enough to position my feet on the floor in a defensive posture. “A Vulcan,” I said. “The new Emperor is simply a figurehead.”

     “A Vulcan,” he repeated, and his body was too still.

     I nodded, still watching him closely, and then a spark of recognition dawned. _I knew who he was._ I couldn’t hide my reaction, and I knew the instant he saw it. His attack came blindingly fast, but I was ready, and his greater weight and momentum were quickly neutralized as I rolled him over, my legs wrapping around him as my gown ripped, my hands at his neck, threatening the bones there.

     He was hissing rapid breaths, and I could feel the whipcord tightness of his muscles, however depleted by his recent stasis. I murmured into his ear, “Captain James Tiberius Kirk. It is good to make your acquaintance.”

     “Fuck you,” he said. His hands moved, and I tightened my grip.

     “Don’t struggle,” I said. “I haven’t done this in a while and I could miscalculate quite easily.”

     “I doubt it,” he muttered, mocking me, but he stilled.

     “I’m going to let you go,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you, or betray you. And you can take the word of a whore and an assassin, or you can try this again and suffer the consequences.”

     I felt him nod, and I slowly released him. He sprung away, rubbing at the back of his neck, but he made no movement toward the door. He sniffed. “Whores and assassins are the only truly honest people out there.”

     I didn’t answer, and he crossed his arms with more stubbornness than defensiveness. I could tell he was angrier at his own weakness than at my strength. He cocked his head. “How much to get you to leave this,” he waved a condescending hand, “ fine establishment.”

     I raised my eyebrows. “A lot,” I said honestly. “I like it here. No need to watch my back,” I smiled, “most of the time.”

     He grunted. “I’ll give you whatever you ask for. I need a bodyguard, and an honest one.” I caught a glimpse of wry humor. “I don’t have a lot of options.”

     I hesitated. I knew the stories, of course. Captain James Kirk, darling of the former Emperor and master of the Fleet’s flagship, disappeared and presumed killed by his own first officer after a confusing turn of events in the outer systems. His first officer: a Vulcan, the very Vulcan who had then utilized fierce intelligence, selected assassinations, and powerful family connections to quickly consolidate power and challenge the Emperor himself. And he had won. No one had ever found Kirk’s body, and now I knew why.

     “He didn’t kill you,” I said.

     Kirk smiled dangerously and didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “No, he didn’t. He certainly got rid of me, though.”

     “Will you kill him?” I asked. I knew better than to expect his whole history, but I wasn’t stupid enough to sign up for a suicide mission.

     Kirk stared at me, as if trying to come to the decision himself. “No,” he said finally. “I want…something more complicated than that.”

     I had heard other stories as well, told as more jokes than stories and always dismissed, about an affair between two unyielding and powerful men. I had laughed at the stories myself; everyone knew that Vulcans were impervious to such pleasurable weaknesses. But now, with this man himself in front of me, his hard hazel eyes revealing far more than they should, the jokes suddenly seemed flat. “We won’t get very far,” I hedged dryly.

     “Maybe not. Are you with me?” he asked.

     I took a deep breath, but I already knew what I would say, and I could see by the sudden arrogant expression on his face that he did, too.

     “Yes, sir,” I said, matching his assurance with my own cutting sarcasm.

     He smirked and waved his hand again. “Get your shit,” he snapped. “I want to get going.”

     I didn’t comment, reaching under the bed for my satchel. I stole another glance at him as I pulled my belongings from my dresser. That unique energy was back, his body coiled with it; he looked almost excited. I took off the ruined nightgown perfunctorily and pulled on underwear, loose pants and a shirt, slipping my feet into a pair of boots and tying my hair back into a ponytail.

     He eyed me appraisingly as I stood in front of him. “What’s your name?”

     I shrugged. “Call me Sayre.”

     His eyebrows rose incrementally but he nodded. “From now on, call me James.” He licked his lips. “Any trick to getting out of here without being hassled?”

     I grinned. “Just keep on walking; Lou’ll take it out on that stolen credit chip of yours.” I jerked my chin at him, much like he’d done when he’d first laid eyes on me. “Follow me, James.”

     There was irritation in the way he haltingly moved after me, but that much I’d expected. We passed through the brothel unimpeded, our body language and purposeful steps enough to warn away any questions or interference, exiting out into the bustling darkness of night.

 

 


	2. Journey

Chapter Two: Journey

 

     “You said you’d give me whatever I asked for,” I said quietly, tilting my head to peer at him more closely.

     Kirk snorted rudely, his handsome features cast in pale blue light from the consoles. He didn’t look at me, staring out at the forward viewer at the streaks of starlight. Almost four weeks we’d been together, and we’d barely talked. I’d watched him and he’d watched me, and I could read a growing, subtle urgency in his bearing, warring with reluctance. He was stalling, and he was using his subliminal testing of my loyalty and intentions as a reason for delay.

     “I’m surprised you’re ready to ask for something so quickly,” he finally commented. “Don’t you want to see how far we’ll actually get before you start naming terms?”

     “Oh, I’m sure you’d be able to get me whatever I ask for in terms of credits,” I replied breezily, glancing significantly around at the small cockpit of the ship he’d won, resignedly, in a single hand of poker.

     Kirk grunted noncommittally. “If not credits, I suppose you want the story, then.”

     I didn’t answer, wary of him. He was brilliant and he was unafraid, and yet I had the impression that he was backed into a corner, albeit of his own making. I wondered to myself what it had taken for the Vulcan to bring this man down.

     I saw an odd, mocking smile spread across his face and I scowled. Was he a fucking telepath, too? Now, he looked at me, and I nearly forgot myself in the intensity of his gaze.

     Kirk leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d have to tell you eventually, I suppose. You’d never have believed me when I finally told you that I know how to find him.”

     I shrugged, recovering my composure and my scowl. “And here I thought you owed it to me for that phaser shot I took for you.”

     He chuckled, pointing a finger at me. “It was a graze, and it’s your job.” The humor lingered in his expression. “From what I’ve seen, you’re probably better as a whore than you are as an assassin, but you can be trusted and that’s something. I suppose you’ve earned a bit of information.”

     I kept my eyes on him. He looked away again, to the viewscreen. “Five years ago I was the master of the _I.S.S Enterprise_. She was my jewel, and the former Emperor’s. My life had been getting that ship, and then keeping her.” Kirk’s voice had changed: something fierce coloring his tones. “I commanded her and everyone aboard her. I had everything.”

     I didn’t make a sound, and I watched him slowly stand, moving to pace back and forth across the cramped bridge, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “They say there are no ghosts, but there are: demons that come in the guise of unbelievable physics and ridiculous coincidence. Soft, pliant devils that steal reality itself.” He turned on his heel to look squarely at me. “In this case, the devil was myself.”

     I know that I made a confused face and he chuckled again, this time absent any humor: a dry, cackling sound. “I went to a place that only existed in my worst deluded nightmares, and when I returned, everything I had was already lost.” The cackling came again and he resumed his pacing, angrily. “At the time, though, I hardly realized it. In my arrogance, I believed that…that _Vulcan’s_ coming to me was simply because of my own virility and power. He had seen what could have been and was affected by it, as was I. And I believed every word he said to me, every action he took: jealous _tal-shaya_ of my woman before my very eyes, the calm assurance of his loyalty, the confession that he knew of the—.”

     Kirk broke off abruptly, his expression contorting. “Well, you wanted to hear a story and I won’t bore you with too many classified details.” He flung himself back into the chair in a careless motion, legs spread wide. “We fucked, of course. He let me fuck him and I wanted it. Wanted him, because I always had, and I needed to prove that I was back in command of my ship and everyone aboard her. I fucked him raw and thought I’d had the best part of the deal right up until he put his hand on my face.”

     His lips curled in a sneer, his hand making a jerky motion toward his temple. “He did something to me. Something that forced us together in a way that meant death—or life—for both of us.”

     “I’ve heard of such things,” I said tentatively. “I never thought they were true.”

     “Well, they are,” he spat. “I didn’t believe him at first. I ordered him to my private agony booth naked and bleeding, and I should have known better when he went without a fight. Stepped right in, almost smiling. I don’t know how I managed to turn off that fucking machine before I passed out, but I did, and I woke up in his quarters of all places, my guards dead. And now I was naked, exposed; as helpless as he never was.” He scoffed. “I’ll never fuck again without an audience, I’ll tell you that right now.”

     Kirk glared at the stars. “He could have killed me and been done with it and been the Captain free and clear. He wanted me to live, though, and this was the only way to force my hand. He wouldn’t kill me for some reason, and I _couldn’t_ kill him. He told me something of what my ghost had done and said, and why it was necessary to try another path.” Kirk huffed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I never thought he’d reach this far, honestly. Hell, I didn’t _think_ at all.”

     I swallowed, my eyes cataloguing the hardness in his face. “You tried to kill him anyway.”

     “I tried,” he said flatly. “And ended up in hibernation in a stasis pod on the backend of a backwater planet.”

     “That’s a hell of a story,” I said calmly. “And that’s how you can know where he is, because of this…mental connection?” I paused. “And he might know where you are, too. That’s why you’ve been delaying.”

     He shrugged, his lips twisted self-deprecatingly. “Smart girl.”

     I toyed with the bandage covering my left arm, where the phaser bolt had burned my skin. “There’s only one question I have, though.”

     “Only one?” Kirk rolled his eyes.

     “Yeah,” I countered. “Why not just leave you there indefinitely?”

     I could see him swallow. “I don’t know,” he said. “The chamber was set to open, but why _now_ , I don’t know.”

     I’d never seen him look vulnerable or unsure until now, and the impression was fleeting, almost instantly replaced by his usual hard intensity. I pretended I hadn’t seen it. “You still want to fuck him?” I asked crudely.

     One side of his mouth turned up, acknowledging my poor attempt at redirection. “Yeah,” he said, “I do. But, obviously, it’s more complicated than that.”

     “Sounds like a love song,” I commented flippantly.

     “Shut up,” he snapped, staring out at the stars again, his lips still curved.

     I smirked, studying his profile briefly before running my eyes over the sleek console in front of me. I wasn’t sure I believed everything he had said, or even understood it, but I knew I’d still follow him. He was that kind of person, and my blood had been stirred, my interest piqued. Kirk still hadn’t voiced the Vulcan’s name, but I knew it, of course. I couldn’t help a flutter of unprofessional excitement; we’d be going to the very top, to the heart of the Empire’s power. And I had enough of the assassin left in me to want a piece of the action; enough of the romantic to want to find out what it was that had convinced Spock of Vulcan to allow this man to live; and enough of the fool to think that I might survive both of them.

 

 


	3. Interception

Chapter Three: Interception

 

     “Wake up! Wake up, goddammit! Get your ass up here!”

     Kirk’s strained voice over the intercom combined with a sudden shuddering jerk of the deck under my bunk woke me immediately, and I swung my legs around, making it three steps before another jolt knocked me to my knees. The engines roared and I could smell something overheating, and I half-crawled to the door and into the small central corridor, scrambling to the bridge.

     “What’s—?” My question ended in a choked sound as I saw the looming Imperial warship in the forward viewscreen. “Fuck!”

     “Yeah, _fuck_ is right,” he snapped, his hands flying over the console. “They’ve got us in some sort of holding beam; I can’t shake it.”

     “What about…what about—.” I wracked my brain as I climbed into the other seat. Any weapons we had on this craft would be useless against that gleaming vessel. “They knew how to find you, right?” I gasped, recalling the cryptic implications of the mental link he claimed. “If they wanted you dead, we’d already be well on our way.”

     He swore mightily, waiting until the engine indicators were blaring redline warnings before hitting the shutdown switch. The abrupt silence on the bridge was as startling as the calm voice that filtered over my communications panel.

     “Stand by for transport.”

     Kirk galvanized immediately, leaping to his feet and leaning over my panel, pointing at the controls. “Open that channel,” he hissed.

   I fumbled with the switch, hearing an audible click as the transmission went through. He didn’t hesitate. “Negative,” he barked. “We’ll dock, and step aboard under our own fucking volition. I’m not leaving my ship adrift.”

     The small hairs on the back of my neck rose at the undeniable command note in his voice, and, after several seconds, the unaccented reply came back, “Acknowledged. We shall release tractor beam in order for you to comply. Come about to port side docking bay.” A pause. “I believe that threats are unnecessary.”

     “Completely,” Kirk retorted succinctly, and he lifted his chin at me.

     I closed the channel and watched him. He looked grimly satisfied as he began punching in a command sequence to the helm and I ran a hand through my mussed hair. “Is he over there?”

     “Of course he is,” Kirk said. He threw an appraising look over my black jumpsuit. “Keep your gun on and obvious.”

     I managed a glower. “I know my fucking job.”

     He shrugged and nearly smirked at me. “I hope so, lady.”

     I pulled my long hair into a tight bun and checked the charge on my phaser, watching the slow progress of our ship around the side of the Imperial vessel. Kirk was watching, too.

     “They’ve made some strides, haven’t they?” he mumbled. “Gorgeous fucking scow out there. A tractor beam? That was only a hypothetical when I was—.” He broke off, teeth bared, his eyes on me. “Technology and scientific development? We traded the art of war craft for that, didn’t we?”

     “Pretty much,” I said. “It worked, though. Put people to work, and the more audacious schemes paid off quickly, pumping trillions of credits into the Imperial economy. Who knew where the ideas came from, but they were incredible.”

     “ _I_ know where they came from,” he emphasized darkly. “And everyone decided they were happy to join up and play nice in order to get some of the spoils. A lot easier than watching your back every waking second.”

     “Intellectual revolution,” I smiled. “There’re still wars over who gets the patents, though.”

     “Pathetic,” Kirk murmured, but his eyes were still appraising the larger craft. “What it is now? A fucking democracy?”

     “No,” I replied. “I don’t know that it’ll ever go that far, but people have a say, and they’re eager to work and contribute when their bellies are full and they’ve got a nice place to live. There’s a firm hand at the top.” I swallowed. “And I think we’re about to meet him.”

     The loud pump-down of the airlock accentuated my words, and Kirk’s lip curled again, his shoulders taut, predatory. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

     I moved quickly, following his stalking progress to the airlock and waiting, a hand on my weapon.

     Kirk fiercely punched the code, and the doors opened, scalloping outward to reveal the brilliantly lit interior of the cruiser. I took in four uniformed guards, all human, and staring at us with unabashed curiosity, and then I was forced to almost jog to keep up with Kirk, whose previously tight posture was now fluid, coiled and dangerous as he simply walked arrogantly past them.

     “Sir?” asked one of the men threateningly. “You will—.”

     “Where is he?” Kirk demanded, finally halting and standing like he owned the place.

     “Sir, you will surrender your—,” the security guard began again.

     “Answer the man’s question,” I interjected, turning around to face them. I lifted my hand from my weapon; to draw it would be suicide, but a fight wasn’t out of the question. I couldn’t let them suspect any kind of weakness, after all, and dumb belligerence had always served its purpose before. I tried to approximate Kirk’s arrogance. “If you even can, fucking redshirt.”

     Seconds later I was landing blows and ducking punches, my nose bleeding profusely. I heard Kirk chuckle amusedly from behind me and I growled as I launched myself at the guy with the most gold stripes on his shoulder. He grunted as I managed a knee in his groin, and then my arms were grabbed and another two wrestled me down.

     Kirk’s amusement suddenly vanished in place of something harder. “Let go of her; she’s crew. Where’s your—?”

     But the men around me were looking behind him, and I craned my neck.

     “I had forgotten your predilection for allowing your crewmembers to smear their blood across a deck.”

     The words came quietly and evenly, and yet the fine hairs on my neck rose at the sound of the Vulcan’s smooth voice.

     All movement had ceased, and yet from my position on the floor, I could only see Kirk’s face, suddenly pale, contorting with emotion that flashed and burned and left a determined, calculated smirk. His eyes were wild, and yet he did not turn.

     “Let my guard go,” he ordered again, his voice steel.

     There must have been a nod or some other indication, because the men’s hold on me disappeared immediately and they stepped aside, at strict attention. I uncurled my body and pushed myself up, ignoring the blood coating the lower half of my face. And only after Kirk saw that I was standing unaided and relatively steadily did he turn in a slow, almost sultry motion, and we both regarded the Vulcan himself.

     _Liquid heat and starlit darkness_ : I was no poet, but I couldn’t help but think of this man in poetic terms. He was tall, dressed in black with accents of deepest blue. His dark hair was long, hanging past his shoulders, and he wore the heavy jewelry typical of his race around his neck and at his waist: precious stones of blue and violet polished into rounded shapes and set in silver metal. His hands, though, were bare of adornment, long, pale fingers clasped loosely in front of him.

     I could see the barest tremor to Kirk’s shoulders, quickly suppressed and I could feel the energy between them: something slick and cutting and primal. Anticipation hung around them, and I saw fire light the Vulcan’s dark eyes as he gazed at Kirk. _Complicated_ , indeed, and I suddenly realized how little I understood, how little anyone else understood, if I went by the confused expressions on the guards’ faces as they stood next to me. I think we all had been expecting someone to get shot, or stabbed, or fucked pretty quickly, and this silent, exclusive intensity was disconcerting.

     The Vulcan’s lips were oddly sensual, a point of eroticism in the planes and angles of his face, their color contrasting with the darkness of his closely clipped beard.

     “Greetings, Jim.”

     Kirk squared his shoulders and, contemptuously, spat on the deck. “A little late for pleasantries, isn’t it, Spock?”

     “Perhaps.” The Vulcan’s gaze focused on me. “Your crewmember? Not your bodyguard?”

     “She’s a little of both,” Kirk replied curtly. “And she stays with me. At all times.” I took it as a cue, and moved forward to stand at his side, licking my lips and tasting the iron tang of blood.

     “Our discussion is not for the ears of others,” the Vulcan said too abruptly, faint color appearing high on his cheekbones.

     I peered at him, only now noticing the aura of nervous energy that seemed to shimmer across his skin. This small talk was a necessary chore that he was either growing tired of or simply could not bear for another moment.

     Kirk snorted, saying sarcastically, “We had our moment alone already, _t’hy’la_. I won’t make that mistake again.”

     I didn’t recognize the term, but the effect it had on our host was immediate. Spock’s expression solidified, the color fading and any trace of softness gone from his eyes. His hands moved to clasp behind his back, and he lifted his chin coldly. “Escort the former Captain and his crewmember to my quarters,” he commanded imperiously, and I exhaled tightly through my nostrils, having half-expected him to summarily order our deaths.

     As it was, he was gone all too suddenly, and the four guards surrounded us, weapons out, herding us toward a side door.

     “Well done,” I muttered, glaring at Kirk as we marched down the corridor. “I haven’t been in the agony booth for years; I sure am looking forward to it now.”

     His expression was taut and unreadable. “I know why—.” He trailed off cryptically, and I had to strain to hear the rest of it. “I know why that fucking hibernation pod was set to open.” He was breathing faster than normal, his hands clenched at his sides. “Strap in, sweetheart. This is going to be one hell of a show.”

 

 


End file.
